Following is a summarization of the tribute delivered [...]]]> From my own experience, the loss of a child is one of the most difficult experiences we ever face in life. The pain and darkness are indescribably intense, and there are no easy answers to comfort the hurting heart. Can there be any hope in such a situation?

Following is a summarization of the tribute delivered by Karen Gottsponer at the memorial service for her infant daughter, Rebekah Joy Gottsponer, who passed away on October 13, 2009. In it you will see great hope expressed even in the midst of overwhelming sorrow. I trust this will be a help to others who might find themselves in similar circumstances.

—–

Dale and I and our family want to thank you all for being here to support us during this time.

We are thankful for the time that God gave us with Rebekah Joy. I was so blessed to have had the privilege of carrying her for almost 37 weeks and blessed that the kids and Dale had an opportunity to place their hands over my belly and pray over her these past few months. Today is about honoring her and giving glory to God for her sweet little life.

As we have been ministered to this week by so many, we have come across numerous verses that have touched our hearts and have spoken life into our weary souls. Looking back, we realize that God in His tender mercy was drawing us toward Him and preparing us for what we would be facing.

As the reality of Rebekah’s passing began to seek in, I spent time in the hospital bathroom crying out to God to fill my hurting heart as only He could. I didn’t know if I could face another moment without my sweet baby girl. I felt that our hopes were lost, our dreams unfulfilled and our plans unfinished. But God whispered in my heart that this was not true. If this is what we believed we could not make it another day but would just crumble into a heap of despair.

Our hopes are not lost because we know we will see Rebekah’s sweet little face one day!

Because of Rebekah’s passing, our faith is being tested as never before. Do we believe everything we say we believe? It’s so easy to pray and praise God when our world is right. However, what will we do when things don’t go as planned? We now know we must cling to His word because He is really all we have. I was reminded of these verses: “These two things cannot change: God cannot lie when He makes a promise, and He cannot lie when He makes an oath. These things encourage us who came to God for safety. They give us strength to hold on to the hope we have been given. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, sure and strong.” (Hebrews 6:18-19 NCV).

As women came in our hospital room with stories of their own losses, Dale and I realized that we too could “rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep” (Roman 12:15 NAS) because we had “been there” and felt that same grief.

And even though I have a baby book at home left uncompleted, God has reminded me that Rebekah’s sweet days were ordained in His book before one of them came to be. (Psalm 139:13-16).

We are scared of the “firsts” that are coming. The first time we are asked how many children we have. The first day Dale goes back to work. The first time we go back to church without Rebekah. The first time I am asked by someone who doesn’t know our loss, “How is your newborn?” Though these unknowns frighten us, God “will lead the blind by ways they have not known.” (Isaiah 42:16).

Dale and I had thought a lot about the tone we wanted this memorial service to take. Do we celebrate? Do we grieve? Do we mourn? We eventually decided that we wanted friends to see that we do indeed grieve for our little baby—so deeply from a place in our hearts we never knew existed.

But we also wanted them to see that we grieve with hope: hope of seeing sweet little Rebekah’s face again because we are in Christ. (1 Thes. 4:13-18). We can honestly say we can praise God through this storm. These past few days, His word seems sweeter, His grace ever present, His love surrounding.

We have been blessed in so many ways this past week: To know for sure the cause of little Rebekah’s death. To have a wonderful doctor who cared for me throughout my pregnancy and prayed and cried with us at the end. To have friends that immediately rallied around us and cried and prayed with us. To have a dear hospital staff member to take care of Rebekah when were not able and to minister to our weary hearts. To have friends that cared for our children, taxied them around, played Monopoly with them, took them out for shakes. To have children who helped run the household, cleaned bathrooms, greeted guests. To have family members who came with love and coworkers and neighbors who called, provided meals, shed tears, wrote words. And much more.

Thank you all from the bottom of our hearts. Thank you for walking down this path with us the first few days as we stumbled along. Though we know we have to walk alone now, we are reassured we aren’t really alone, for God is with us every step. And we know He will also bring people along our paths when we need them to help us in this journey.

May God show you how much each of you means to us. Thank you, and God bless you.

Copyright 2009 Karen Gottsponer — www. gottjoy.blogspot.com

THE HOPE

I weep for you my little one,
My heart is full of whys:
Why snatched from me so suddenly?
No answer satisfies.

I’ll never fully comprehend
The darkness in my soul,
But from my pain—and dawning bright—
A wonder now unfolds:

That God could take my deepest hurt
And from its depth extract
A hope in Him, a confidence,
A love that knows no lack.

Not even death with all its sting
Could ever steal from me
The wondrous hope we’ll meet again
And share eternity!

In Memory Of:
Rebekah Joy Gottsponer
October 13, 2009

Copyright 2009 James McAlister — www.james-mc.com

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But why? Perhaps because the trauma of death forced a shift in focus. Presenting God with only a list of needs no [...]]]> Despite my best intentions, I’ve often been disappointed in the lack of results from my praying. Since the death of my wife, however, I can honestly report more effectiveness than in any previous recollection.

But why? Perhaps because the trauma of death forced a shift in focus. Presenting God with only a list of needs no longer satisfied because I usually didn’t even know what to ask for in my extremity. Prayer has now become more of a closer relationship with the One who has invited me to come boldly before His throne and find mercy and grace to help in time of need. (Heb. 4:16).

What I describe here won’t necessarily be a pattern for others to follow exactly but simply an observation about how God seems to be working in this season of my life through three intertwining processes:

COMMUNICATING WITH GOD

When my son was small, he’d often ask me for things. And while I’d certainly grant some of his requests outright, what I really wanted to do was communicate with him so that we could understand each other and mutually arrive at the best decision. So we’d talk about the request and all its ramifications.

Thus my approach to God–my communication with Him– has largely taken the form of ongoing verbal conversations throughout the day. I literally speak aloud to God and explain puzzlements, issues, needs, anxieties, disappointments, sorrows, frustrations, loneliness, etc., as if confiding in a close personal friend from whom I withhold no secrets. I also ask questions and make requests. He understands, and verbalization (coupled with my Bible reading, of course) helps me gain clarification and insight.

This is reminiscent of conversations I used to have with my wife. We often rambled far afield from the original issue until we came to a resolution. There was seldom any quick fix.

CRYING OUT TO GOD

More so than ever before, I find my prayers punctuated by tears–real, hot and salty. They come without being beckoned and add urgency to my supplications. Does this make any difference? Perhaps. What parent won’t immediately attend to the needs and hurts of a weeping child? When Hezekiah cried out to God in deep distress of soul, God replied, “I have heard your prayers; I have seen your tears.” (Isa. 38:5). The combination found favor in heaven.

And though He was sinless and perfect, even Jesus Himself offered up prayers and supplications with loud cryings and tears–and was heard. (Heb. 5:7).

Tears often spring from a broken heart, and it’s comforting to know that “the Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” He sees and hears me right where I am. (Psa. 34:17-18).

COUNTING ON GOD

Pray without expecting an answer and you won’t likely be disappointed. We must actively, expectantly, persistently count on God to do all He has promised: to meet our needs (Php. 4:19), to give us wisdom (Jas. 1:5), to never leave us nor forsake us (Heb. 13:5) and so much more. But far too often the seeming impossibility of a situation causes me to doubt. God cannot lie (Tit. 1:2), and I must learn to count on Him to be true to His word.

If I pray according to His will, He will both hear and answer. (1 Jn. 5:14-15). When I’m unsure of His will, I consider some questions. For example, is my prayer in alignment with the clear principles of scripture? Is it consistent with how God has acted before? Is it a good thing that would bring glory to Him and advance His kingdom?

While not perfect, such thinking helps persuade me that if I don’t know of any reason why He shouldn’t answer my request, I pray with confidence that He will. But what if I’m wrong? Then I count on the Holy Spirit to intercede for me according to the will of God. (Rom. 8:26). Thus I don’t have to pray without expecting results and can count on God to do what’s best.

You may get the idea that praying this way might be tedious and drawn out. It can be. Or that it might be emotional and intense. Certainly. Or perhaps even bold and aggressive. Yes.

Prayer indeed changes things, and the greatest changes I’ve seen have been in me. Pray, and you can expect the same.

Copyright 2009 James McAlister

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I have found, however, a few truly useful rules for successful living–but [...]]]> Throughout my school years I had to memorize numerous rules I never completely understood. For example, why must I lie down instead of lay down for a nap? But there is a grammatical rule that governs such statements even if I don’t know it.

I have found, however, a few truly useful rules for successful living–but they just don’t seem right. In fact, they appear at first glance to be flat out wrong because they conflict with our “common sense.”

THE FIRST ONE OVER THE FINISH LINE DOES NOT WIN THE PRIZE

In a race, the winner is the one who gets to the finish line first–unless he’s disqualified for an infraction of the rules. Rules are important, and we need to understand them.

Who was the strong man, David or Goliath? Goliath, of course, who stood taller than nine feet and had been a warrior since his youth. His opponent? A mere shepherd boy who couldn’t even wear a man’s armor. But Goliath’s bulk and formidable array of weaponry proved no match for David’s confidence, inspired and backed up by the name of the Lord God of Hosts. If bets had been taken that day, they would all have been on the strong man who lost. “The race is not to the swift, or the battle to the strong.” (Eccl 9:11).

So if the first one over the finish line doesn’t win the prize, then who does? “Blessed is a man who perseveres under trial, for once he has been approved (by God), he will receive the crown of life….” (James 1:12). Eternal prizes go to those who persevere despite obstacles and sidetracks. There are no shortcuts to maturity, and neither strength nor speed decide the winner.

PERFECT CONDITIONS DO NOT YIELD FRUIT

Perfect conditions seldom occur, and “he who watches the wind does not sow, and he who watches the clouds does not reap.” (Eccl 11:10). If we wait until conditions are “just right,” we won’t ever attempt anything.

When the Israelites crossed the Red Sea, they were led by God into the wilderness where they were three days without water. When the water they finally found at Marah was bitter, great complaints arose against Moses. Moses cried out to God, and following His instructions, tossed a certain tree into the water, causing the bitter water to become sweet. (Exodus 15:22-27).

Thus satisfied, sustained and nourished with sweet water, the people moved on. They camped next at Elim, an excellent spot with 12 wells of water and 70 palm trees. What could have been better? But the great work of God was done at the bitter waters; there is no miracle recorded at Elim, where conditions were perfect.

Out of the hard spots in life grow powerful testimonies, towering strength, clear insight. Perfect conditions don’t produce that kind of fruit.

BEING RIGHT IS NOT ENOUGH

Stated differently, the truth is never sufficient in itself. We do need to be right and have a firm grip on truth–but there’s more.

On occasion I assemble the ingredients for a chocolate pie on my counter. Tasted individually, however, they are disgusting. Bitter cocoa powder, chalky flour–and there’s no way I’d eat a raw egg! But in the proper proportions and cooked for the right amount of time, the result is really quite tasty.

I’ve been around numerous churches and individuals who were right in their teaching and doctrine, but they had neither significant influence nor power. Why not? An essential ingredient was missing from the mix.

Paul explains this way: “That we henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive; but speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ.” (Ephesians 4:14-15, emphasis added). Truth does not prevail unless mixed with love.

In evaluating my various roles in life–husband, father, grandfather, teacher, leader–I draw one conclusion: I’ve been right a lot more times than I’ve been effective.

I’ve preached too much and prayed too little, loved too little, had too little compassion, overlooked too few wrongs done to me, forgiven too little. Indeed I was right–yet ineffective. Truth doesn’t stand alone.

The important rules that govern our lives are sometimes veiled in darkness.  But God waits to throw back the shutters and flood us with light–if we’ll ask Him. (James 1:5).

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He later confessed, “I realized with awful force that no exercise of my own feeble wit and strength could save me from my enemies, and that without the [...]]]> On December 12, 1899, a 25-year-old British cavalry officer made a daring nighttime escape from an enemy prison, but the frightful prospect of imminent recapture soon overwhelmed him.

He later confessed, “I realized with awful force that no exercise of my own feeble wit and strength could save me from my enemies, and that without the assistance of that High Power which interferes in the eternal sequence of causes and effects more often than we are always prone to admit, I could never succeed. I prayed long and earnestly for help and guidance. My prayer, as it seems to me, was swiftly and wonderfully answered.”

After asking God’s help, he then determined to seek refuge in a nearby house. Without knowing whether deliverance or destruction would answer, he anxiously knocked at the door. Winston Churchill thus discovered the only haven within 20 miles and lived to become a world powerhouse.

This story provides a wonderful illustration of Jesus’ threefold admonition: “Ask and it shall be given to you; seek and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened to you.” (Mat. 7:7).

And therein are keys to help us decide what’s next in life, an issue I face daily.

ASK WITH THE EXPECTATION THAT GOD WILL ANSWER.

We should first ask God to meet our needs. And if answers aren’t immediately forthcoming, we are to keep on asking. Unfortunately, many of us ask of God but don’t really expect much to happen and soon give up. Nevertheless, we need to ask with the firm belief that Jesus meant what He said: those who ask will receive.

Realize, too, that we can ask wrongly. If needs are not met, we might consider that our asking could be amiss. (James 1:6, 4:3).

SEEK WITH THE CONFIDENCE OF FINDING WHAT YOU NEED.

Have you ever noticed that God sometimes answers prayers in ways we’re not expecting? So we need wisdom to understand what’s really going on. Wisdom must be sought: “If you seek her as silver, and search for her as hidden treasures, then you shall understand….” (Prov. 2:4-5). There’s urgency in this sort of seeking.

Here’s what I do. After asking God to meet my specific needs, I open my Bible and pray something like this: “Heavenly Father, I need for you to speak to me today in a way that I can understand. Is there anything you want to tell me?” Then I read. If I encounter a verse where I believe that He is speaking, I underline it, date it, and jot a short note about what I believe the message is to me. If doubts come later, I can look back and say, “On this day God said….” That brings confidence.

KNOCK WITH THE ASSURANCE THAT GOD IS GOING TO GIVE DIRECTION AT THE RIGHT TIME.

But there’s an additional step. After asking and seeking we will often encounter situations where a decision is required. Do I move forward, or wait? Do I do this or that? These decision points are “doors,” doors that must be tested with a “knock.” Churchill knocked at a physical door, but there are other kinds as well.

Believing they were led of God, the Apostle Paul and his companions endeavored to go into Bythenia, but that door closed to them. Shortly thereafter, however, an unexpected door of opportunity in Macedonia opened. (Acts 16:7-9). So whether a door opens or closes, direction is given in either case.

Deciding what’s next in life is a process whereby an amalgam of perplexities, obscurities and conflicts is gradually refined into clarity we can act upon.

EARLY, EARLY I WILL SEEK HIM

Early, early I will seek Him
Seek Him first, foremost of all.
Heaven’s dew is then the freshest,
That on me His grace may fall.

Seek Him earnestly and often,
Seek Him while He may be found.
Once the hardened heart has softened,
Then we are on praying ground.

Seek Him when your visions perish,
Plans derailed by Satan’s darts.
He’s the One who said He’d cherish
Prayers that spring from humble hearts.

Seek Him when there’s joy abounding,
Blessings showered all around.
Grateful praise too often missing,
Thankful hearts too seldom found.

Seek Him and He’ll not forsake you.
Seek Him on behalf of friends.
Adverse gales that may assail you
He can turn to pleasant winds.

Seek Him first in youthful vigor,
Seek Him ’til life’s at its end.
For our faith cannot grow bigger
Lest we seek Him friend to friend.

Copyright 2009 James McAlister

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When they arrived at the garden, however, astonishment gripped their hearts. The stone had already been set [...]]]> A stone presented a formidable problem that first resurrection morning. Massive and threatening, it blocked the entrance to Jesus’ tomb for the women needing to anoint His body. “Who will move it for us?” they puzzled–but found no answer.

When they arrived at the garden, however, astonishment gripped their hearts. The stone had already been set aside, allowing them to enter the tomb. But the dead Jesus they expected to find was not there! Risen, an angel told them, just as He had said.

That great stone of worry, the deepest of concerns in the early morning hours, had been rolled away for their benefit, not His. And on the inside of the empty tomb they discovered not the worst of their expectations, but the best. Though Jesus had promised to rise from the dead, they hadn’t believed… until the stone was moved. Then gripped by both fear and joy, they raced to tell others.

This was not the first stone to conceal a great work of God from those who desperately needed deliverance and relief. It had happened before at the tomb of Lazarus. Because of that stone, the family couldn’t see in, nor did they want to. After four days of death, putrefaction and stench on the other side of the stone surely awaited them. Or so they thought.

But Jesus had promised, “Your brother will live again.” Still, they hadn’t believed… until He moved the stone. Then Lazarus, dead just moments before, walked out of his dark tomb into a bright new life.

The glimpse of resurrection and life eternal foreshadowed with Lazarus was secured when Jesus Himself passed from death into life; not even an immovable stone could hold Him there.

Stones persist today and gain their power in the same way as they did in the time of Jesus: our reluctance and refusal to believe what He has said. For me, ominous stones of fear, confusion, doubt, bitterness and a host of their companions have repeatedly entombed my future and outlook in darkness and blinding hopelessness.

But He still moves stones, and for every one that has gained ascendency there’s a life-giving promise begging me for belief and obedience. Am I anxious? He promises peace that passes understanding. (Phil. 4:6-7). Am I confused? He promises wisdom. (James 1:5).

The empty tomb of Jesus on that first resurrection morning paints this picture of truth: a stone is powerless in the face of promise. And on the other side of the stone we will discover not the worst of expectations, but the best. He lives, and so shall we–for time and eternity.

HE STILL MOVES STONES

Both Death and Darkness ruled the day
Around the tomb where Laz’rus lay.
Cried Jesus in authority,
“Remove the stone and set him free!”

Have stony trials progressively
Extinguished hopes of victory?
Embrace His word triumphantly:
He’ll move those stones and set you free.

Have stones of fear, confusion, doubt
Destroyed your faith and burned you out?
Then look to Him expectantly:
He’ll move those stones and set you free.

Are your dreams blocked or gone astray
By stones of hindrance in the way?
His Spirit will bring clarity:
He’ll move those stones and set you free.

(Refrain)
He still moves stones, so give Him glory!
He still moves stones to change your story!
What e’er your trial or loss or need
If there’s a stone, He wants you freed.

Copyright 2009 James McAlister

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My ability to concentrate on “creative” sorts of things is slowly returning back to more of a “normal” state. I do understand that the loss [...]]]> It’s been a year since I sent out one of my regular newsletters, so I thought I might give you a brief update as several have inquired about how I’m doing.

My ability to concentrate on “creative” sorts of things is slowly returning back to more of a “normal” state. I do understand that the loss of such ability is common among people who have suffered a great loss in their lives.

Otherwise, I’m doing well. I still try to visit the fitness center five or six times a week, and on many evenings when the weather permits, I also walk out by the river. This activity has helped both physical and mental well being. And I’m continuing with the Spanish lessons and try to work on them some every day.

One of the most important things I do is to drive to Benton two mornings a week to stay with Jackson, who is surely the world’s most intelligent, funny, helpful, winsome, etc., etc., 27-month-old grandson. We sit in the floor and build with his blocks, play with his cars–and read the books that his Gramma Mary read to his daddy when he was a little boy. I enjoy this time immensely. Jackson’s mom, Brandi, has a morning job at First Assembly of God, and his dad, Barrett, now works at Landers Chrysler Jeep Dodge. He loves the work (which would terrify me), but car sales are at a 27-year low. I pray a lot that business would increase. They moved into their own house last year and have worked so hard to make it into a pleasant home.

For those who may be interested, I have moved all the content from my old web site to this new format because it gives me more flexibility in categorizing and classifying the material so that it can be located and searched. I do hope to occasionally post articles in the coming months. I’ll let regular subscribers to the old newsletter know when there’s new content–and you can also subscribe by email at the top of the page.  The categories I’ve assigned to the articles here need a lot of work. There are too many of them, too many  unclassified–and they need a lot of refinement. But at least the content is here, including poems and songs that weren’t on the old site. And the audio messages are better organized and descriptive.

My health is good. In addition to healthy eating (usually), I am taking a new nutritional supplement that has given me more energy than at any time in my recollection. Unfortunately, however, I have started making chocolate pies for special occasions, and those conspire against all of my noble efforts to eat right.

I do, of course, continue to miss Mary. The empty house is exceedingly lonely at times but without the darkness that I once felt. I do need to move to a smaller place but don’t yet have any clarification about “what’s next.” So I’ll stay put until I can see more clearly when and where to move. Until then, I have at least half of this house closed off and hardly ever enter those areas. I have spent what seems like countless hours in trying to deal with the aftermath of death and get rid of things I won’t need in the future. The process of adjustment has seemed exceedingly slow and painful, but today, the second anniversary of her death, I can see how far I have really come.

May God bless you all for your prayers and concerns.

DREAMS

Late at night they skitter Through my mind on velvet paws. Silent, it seems, to elude my grasp, But I sense them crouching in the shadows— Waiting to pounce.

They often seek, I think, Some occasion to linger And boldly whisper hints Of “incredible” and “impossible”: Of what might [...]]]> On the healing of both body and soul. This is the poem mentioned in the message:

DREAMS

Late at night they skitter
Through my mind on velvet paws.
Silent, it seems, to elude my grasp,
But I sense them crouching in the shadows—
Waiting to pounce.

They often seek, I think,
Some occasion to linger
And boldly whisper hints
Of “incredible” and “impossible”:
Of what might be, should Strength
And Circumstance both smile on me with favor.

Then if Morning shoos them off
With stern persuasions of “Not today,”
Nighttime faithfully beckons them to whisper once again,
“But there is yet tomorrow.”

Copyright 2007 James McAlister  Listen here

Nevertheless, I’ve purposely relived a few brief hours this past week through a number of old video tapes I’m trying to convert to more durable DVD.

We loved our Jenny intensely in life, but the films [...]]]> “I’d like to live my life over again,” some assert, “if I could just know what I know now.” Not me!

Nevertheless, I’ve purposely relived a few brief hours this past week through a number of old video tapes I’m trying to convert to more durable DVD.

We loved our Jenny intensely in life, but the films reveal more vividly than we could see at the time the incredible difficulty and pain that she endured (and we with her).

Pleasures abounded also.

In varied attempts to learn to edit the tapes, I replayed about six minutes of Barrett’s first T-ball game repeatedly, trying to get it right. Here’s what I saw: even his too-large bat and tiny legs didn’t discourage him from swinging and churning toward first with Mickey Mantle chutzpah.

He relished every millisecond–and we with him. Youth endowed us with energy and enthusiasm that time has since eroded.

We spent this New Year’s Day at the Daniel ranch near Bearhouse Creek, our first visit there in at least a dozen or more years. It was there, probably in 1966, that I exercised my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to favorably impress my fiancée and her Aunt Fran and Uncle James. I chose drama: yelling like Tarzan while swinging on a grapevine across a small creek, I promptly fell flat on my back into the frigid water. Some impression.

Videos from that place and time reveal a home populated by friendships and faces now gone: Thurston and Gladys Daniel. Bill and Charlotte Stover. Mama Ann. The oldsters understood the transience of health and life, but we youngsters embraced the idealism that we’d somehow escape the curse. We haven’t.

In Christmas programs we enjoyed two decades ago with the Browns, Bakers and Chathams, adults and children alike acted out parts in what we called “The Herod Play,” an account (written by Mary) of King Herod’s ancient encounter with the wise men. Portraying King Herod, a youngish Gilbert Baker’s impromptu demand of “Who put the seeds in these grapes!” aptly portended his current career as a leader in the state senate.

And with his elegant white beard, who could have looked a more splendid wise man than Foy Brown? Foy died in December 2004. Roy and Jimmie Chatham animate the film with their own unique rendition of “Walking in a Winter Wonderland.” Jimmie died in December 2005. Jenny delighted in violin duets by sisters Susan Baker and April Chatham (now Carpenter). Jenny died in 1995.

Despite the increasing reality of my own mortality, I wouldn’t for a minute want to live the past over again. But I confess an occasional secret desire to spend just an hour with a precious few I’ll never see again this side of heaven… Mother and Jenny for starters. And I’d expect those 60 minutes to affirm the truth already ringing in my heart: life is short, pain is temporal, death is certain, God is good.

Yes, just an hour would do.

JUST AN HOUR WOULD DO

Today I’ve missed some loved ones
Whom I’d like to see again,
To fix each face that time’s erased,
And just an hour would do.

Friendships knitted through the years
Unraveled by death’s touch,
I’d treasure time to recombine,
And just an hour would do.

I’d settle for a moment,
A bubble in the stream
Of flowing days and severed ways,
And just an hour would do.

Tomorrow clothes the promise
That separations end,
And holds today in hope’s delay.
Yes, just an hour would do.

Copyright 2006 James McAlister

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We rose at 4:30 a.m. Thursday morning and got an early start. Unanticipated logistics in shuttling cars, however, made us almost two hours late in getting on the trail. This put us way behind on time [...]]]> Sunday, December 31, 1995. The big backpacking trip is over. It was exhausting, and I am still weary and sore.

We rose at 4:30 a.m. Thursday morning and got an early start. Unanticipated logistics in shuttling cars, however, made us almost two hours late in getting on the trail. This put us way behind on time and distance. We probably covered only three to four of the six miles that had been planned. We had to make camp about 3:30 p.m. because darkness fell so early in the valleys.

It was bitterly cold, probably 10 degrees when we awoke Friday morning. My back hurt so badly that I was afraid to hike any further and asked for prayer for relief from pain.

We were so slow in getting camp torn down that we didn't get on the trail until around 11:00 a.m.–and then covered only five to six miles. After an hour or two of hiking, my back pain had completely disappeared.

We camped that night at Lick Creek and were awakened around 2:00 a.m. by the sound of sleet hitting the tents. We arose in total darkness to find the trees coated in ice and the rocks becoming glazed.

"Breakfast" was just hot chocolate (hastily heated under the equipment tarp) since we needed to break camp as quickly as possible. We began a forced march at 8:00 a.m. in hopes of avoiding being icebound in the valley. Over the next four hours we made our best progress yet–about eight miles.

We paused briefly for more hot chocolate after crossing the Little Piney and prepared to assault the final 1.5 miles, which appeared extremely rugged on the map. The last quarter-mile was an 800-foot hill that quickly wore us down. I brought up the rear, moving at a snail's pace.

We reached the vehicles about 2:00 p.m. to find two would-be deliverers, friends who had braved icy highways. They were prepared to initiate rescue efforts had we been trapped.

All in all, the hike proved more challenging than expected because of adversities that popped up without warning. But the bunion on my right foot, my greatest concern at the outset, never bothered me at all. In fact, neither foot was ever cold or wet or hurt.

The teenage boys were put through some rigorous physical tests–and were stretched. We adults were not exempt.
—–
I wrote this account on the eve of a new year–as I do this one today. And as I read it again, I see four lessons to help me put next year's concerns and problems into perspective.

1. Our greatest fears may not materialize at all.

2. Unexpected obstacles will arise when we least expect them.

3. We can find unexpected strength and growth in our trials.

4. Deliverance may be just over the next hill–from God or friends He sends.

Robert E. Lee was right: "It is history that teaches us to hope."

Copyright 2001 James McAlister

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